


A Bad Book

by mapleandmahogany



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-24
Updated: 2008-05-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: "Is this the moment? Oi! There's a war going on here!"… Life with Ron and Hermione never gets easier for Harry.





	A Bad Book

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

~

It was the _whumph_ of an impact on his bed that woke him.

Harry was long accustomed to sleeping through the voices and general sounds of Ron and Hermione moving about the flat. Any other sound would have yanked him from his slumber in an instant, but his subconscious was happily lulled into security when he heard them.

As it was, he'd just got to the really good, heavy part of sleep. Just where the dreams-you-can't-tell-your-best-mate-about start.  


  
He did a quick mental check to assure himself that he was at least wearing underwear.  
  
He was. So he pushed himself onto his elbows and blinked into the darkness. There was a blurry mass of hair sobbing into the pillow next to his head. He hesitated before moving again, every heavy muscle longing to lie down.   
  
After all, it wasn't _his_ girlfriend crying her eyes out. He'd left _her_ with a smile on her face thank-you-very-much.   
  
Still, his bloody conscience had never much cared for what his body wanted.   
  
"Her'mi'nee?" he yawned, put on his glasses and turned on a lamp, which momentarily rendered him blind. When he could see again, he tried to brush aside the tangle of curls to see her face but when he couldn't to get to the bottom of the mass, she turned her head towards him. "Oh, there you are."  
  
She looked up at him with swollen eyes, wet, dripping and pitiful before she wilted again.  
  
"Ah, what'd he do this time?" Harry asked, shifting onto his side and propped his head on his elbow while Hermione flopped into him for a hug. He scrunched his face when his bare chest slicked wet from her snotty tears, but he shook off the momentary revulsion and rest his chin on top of her head, patting her back.  
  
"That bad, eh?" he asked, sticking his tongue out and working his lips to get her hair out of his mouth.  
  
"He's simply horrible!" she whimpered before giving into another wail.  
  
Before Harry had the chance to reply, the front door opened, then slammed shut again, followed by heavy footfalls storming down the hall. A blur of Ron passed by Harry's open bedroom door but the red head immediately peered back in at them.  
  
"That's just fine!" Ron spat. "Just bloody fine! I live here, you know?"   
  
"Your point is?" she snarled back him.  
  
"Oh, I dunno - the whole of Great Britain and you have to come _here_?"  
  
"It's not my fault that my best friend happens to live here!" Hermione shrieked.   
  
" _Your_ best friend?"  
  
"That's right! Have you got a problem with that, too?"  
  
Harry wasn't at all comfortable with the amount of venom they were hurtling at each other and even less comfortable being the unwitting focus of it. They continued shouting at each other while he reached down for the t-shirt he'd discarded on the floor when he came to bed not more than hour earlier.   
  
"Do what ever you want! You always do, anyway!" Ron stormed away as Harry pulled the t-shirt on, and Hermione screamed into the pillow.  
  
"Well that went well," Harry said quietly, lying back with his hands behind his head.   
  
"I don’t know how you put up with him!"  
  
He chuckled.   
  
"I fight with Ron, too. But we just swear a lot and throw things." He looked at her and grinned. "And then we have a good cry and hold each other."  
  
Hermione spluttered mid sob on an unexpected giggle. "He's just the most – he's the most –"  
  
"I know," Harry said, stretching out his arm and Hermione cuddled up, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder. "He's narrow-minded, and insensitive, and pig-headed."  
  
Hermione nodded in enthusiastic agreement and sniffed.  
  
"And he's untrustworthy, dishonest and deceitful …"  
  
Hermione's sob caught in her chest with another laugh and she gave him a slight smile.  
  
"No, he's not." Her voice was very small but very sure.  
  
"Nah," Harry agreed, pushing away bushy, tangled hair from her face. "He's not, is he? Are you gonna tell me what this is about? Not that it's any of my business."   
  
She wiped her face with the back of her hands, taking in a shaky inhale of breath. "He's …"  
  
"He's unfeeling and thoughtless, I know."   
  
"No! Yes – oh, shush, you!" She grimaced. "Ok, we had talked about getting married."  
  
"Oh, really?" Harry's voice went up, implying mischief.  
  
"Not like _that_. Just about _being_ married. Someday. Generally. And I told him that I don't like to cook, that I'd have to marry someone who could or we'd starve."  
  
Harry briefly recalled weeks and weeks of wild mushroom soup in the Forest of Dean and agreed, but thought it best not to mention it.   
  
"And then tonight we had lovely evening until he went and gave me cook book! _Perfect Meals in Twenty Spells Or Less_. Can you believe that?" Hermione shook with a righteous gasp.  
  
Harry swallowed. "Er, he got you a book?"  
  
"A _cook_ book!"  
  
"Right." Harry squeezed her shoulder again, while staring confuzzled at the ceiling. "He's an insensitive bastard, to be sure."  
  
"I know it. All this time I thought he _understood_ me. I have plans for my life, and he's just trying to get me in the kitchen!"  
  
"Are you really sure that's what Ron's intention was; to get you in the kitchen where you belong?"  
  
"Well what else could it mean?"  
  
"Ron's not exactly master of subtlety, is he? He probably just –" Harry stopped himself, seeing the sharp look in her eyes and decided not to continue. Arguing Ron's strong suits was probably not going to be well received just yet. "Ok, how about some tea?"  
  
Hermione accepted the offer gratefully. "That would be very nice," she said, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, I left a wet spot on you."  
  
"It's ok," Harry said, looking at the tear marked circle. "Women tell me that all the time.  
  
"Harry!" She huffed and smacked his arm.  
  
"Ow! Sorry." He sniggered as he rolled out of bed. "You wanna stay over, then?"  
  
Hermione sniffed and swallowed. "Yes, please. Oh, but I don't have anything to sleep in."  
  
Harry snorted. "Well, I'm bang out of nightdresses as you can see." Holding his hands wide and she blushed at the sight of his boxers. He sifted through clothes piled high on a chair and tossed her a crumpled t-shirt. "You can wear that, I reckon."  
  
She caught the wrinkled shirt and gave him a withering look.  
  
"It's from the _clean_ pile," Harry insisted. "I swear."  
  
"I'm sure it is. Thank you."  
  
He gave her rueful glare but she simply showed him a disarming smile in response before he shut the door so she could change.  
  
Harry didn't say anything as he entered the kitchen. Ron was sitting at the tiny table picking at a rum cake Andromeda had left for them.   
  
"What did she say about m-?" Ron started. "No. Never mind. I don't want to know."  
  
"Nothing to worry about." Harry took out a mug and dropped a bag into it. "She's just blowing off steam."  
  
"But why does she go to _you_? You're just as big of an idiot as I am."  
  
"Thanks, mate." Harry casually raised two fingers in a 'V' at him.   
  
"Did you say something brilliant, then?" Ron's voice was laced with self-doubt. "Tell her how pathetic and ignorant I am? That she'd be better off without me?"  
  
Harry bobbed his head in blithe agreement. "That's pretty much exactly what I told her, yeah."  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open and an angry flush began to creep up his neck.  
  
"To which!" Harry interjected quickly. "She stopped blubbering and laughed, 'cos she knows it's not true."  
  
"Fantastic." Ron closed his mouth and deflated again. "It was just a book though, wasn't it? She _likes_ books. How was I to know there was a bad kind of book? She told me she didn't want to keep house and cook and all that. So, when I saw a book about cooking with magic I thought she'd appreciate it. She'd know it wasn't something I thought was important."  
  
"Ah, I see."  
  
"But the she started shouting and waving her wand about, it was scary."  
  
"Get stuffed, will you? You're practically an Auror." Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
Ron glared at him with wide eyes  
  
"You know what she's like!"   
  
Harry grunted and shook his head while he poured the hot water.   
  
"She went on about me being a chauvinist something or other, and some bit about me taking her shoes, next thing. Harry, I never said a word about taking her shoes away!"  
  
Harry chuckled. "Er, it's a Muggle expression. I'm sure you weren't suggesting Hermione be barefoot in the kitchen."  
  
Ron looked at him with bafflement. "Why would I say something like that?"  
  
"It's nothing, don't worry about it."  
  
"Bloody hell, I'm in love with a mad women," Ron despaired, splaying his hands over his face and stretching the skin taut so his tired eyes bugged out.  
  
"Yep, that you did. She's in love with you, too, though." Harry lowered his voice. "You're the only person that makes her cry."  
  
"There's something to be proud of." Ron pouted. "Hermione doesn't like that bagged tea, by the way," he mumbled.  
  
"Well she'll bloody get what I make. It's almost 1am for Godric's sake," Harry snapped. "Why are you eating _that_ , anyway?" Harry looked at the rum cake with distain.  
  
"Because I can't go to work with hangover in the morning so I can't drink, and there's no more chocolate."  
  
"There're Chocolate Frogs right here." Harry pointed to at the counter.  
  
"Those are yours." Ron shrugged petulantly.  
  
Harry huffed and tossed the packets on the table in front of him. "By all means. And get some sleep, would you?" He gave Ron a shove to the back of the head as he past and added with cheek, "I'm going to sleep with your girlfriend, now."  
  
Ron shook his head and swore at him under his breath, biting the kicking legs off a Frog.  
  
Hermione was just finishing hanging her clothes in Harry's wardrobe when he returned. "This is his, isn't it?" she asked, halfheartedly tugging at the hem of the t-shirt, which hung to mid-thigh.  
  
Harry squinted at it as he handed her the tea. "Could be. Can't tell the difference anymore."  
  
"Thank you," she said taking the cup. Harry gave an acknowledging grunt as he climbed back into bed and began punching his pillow into submission. "Did he … say anything, about me?"  
  
Harry took off his glasses and gave her a weary look that made her look away.   
  
"He didn't mean anything by it. It was just a book." Harry flopped his head down with force, lying on his stomach, stating his intention to go back to sleep. "He just thought you'd like a book about easy to spell cooking. There was no hidden meaning. If he's going to be an arse, it'll be obvious."  
  
"I suppose you're right. " She sat gently on the edge of the bed.  
  
"Getting in?" Harry voice was terse as he flipped back the blanket for her, but she ignored his pretense at annoyance. She set her tea down, climbed in next to him and _Noxed_ the light.  
  
"Thank you," she said into the darkness.  
  
"Welcome." He grumbled into his pillow.  
  
"… Goodnight, Harry."   
  
He pushed himself up and leaned toward her with a forgiving smile. "'Night, Hermione." He kissed her on the head, immediately regretting doing so as a stray hair poked up his nose, but he snorted and they wriggled so that their backs were toward each other, and fell asleep.  
  
~  
  
"You know …" Ron's words sliced through his dream and rendered him fully awake. "This isn't your conventional arrangement, is it?"  
  
Harry put his glasses on before he'd even finished yawning and Ron came into clear view, standing in the doorframe with a cup a tea in his hands.  
  
"Is that for me?" Hermione asked, her voice dry from sleep. Ron nodded, looking slightly unsure as he approached the far side of the bed and sat next to her.   
  
They touched fingers over the teacup and after an awkward silence and a quiet chuckle together, they both looked over at Harry.  
  
And waited.  
  
He blinked back at them before he got it.  
  
"Ugh! But it's my room!" Flinging the covers back, he grabbed a pair of trousers stomped off to the loo.  
  
~


End file.
